“Of course they could. I sensed that Adriana wanted to come along so I said sure. My mother had cooked dinner so we stayed in. When Adriana heard that, she asked if we minded if she went out. To meet a friend for dinner. I know I told you over the phone that she didn’t have friends but I was thinking of down here and the L.A. thing slipped my mind. Anyway, we said sure, go have fun. She made a call and soon after someone picked her up and she was gone for a couple of hours. Now I’m wondering if her real reason for tagging along was she’d planned on a date.”

Milo said, “A man picked her up?”

“No idea, all I can tell you is it was a red car and the only reason I remember that was the color shined through the lace curtains over the picture window. I do remember thinking, Pretty flashy for Adriana, maybe she’s got a secret boyfriend. But then she never went out again. And I mean never.”

I said, “What was her mood when she returned?”

“Normal,” she said. “Not upset, not ecstatic. She was always kind of quiet. To tell the truth, I wasn’t paying attention because I was exhausted and dreading two more hours on the freeway. Donald had been on call and he was just zonked out and Adriana didn’t have a license. So I was stuck with the driving.”

“You did a great job,” said a voice from the doorway.

Since being photographed with his daughter, Donald Chang had shaved his head and grown a drooping mustache. Broad-shouldered and slim-hipped, he had taut skin and bright black eyes. I revised my age estimate a few years downward.

We shook hands. His skin barely touched mine. Surgeon’s caution. I’d anticipated that and was careful not to squeeze. Milo’s touch was even lighter, a bare graze of fingertips. Courtesy of all those years living with Rick, whose name for the policy was “Don’t scratch the Stradivarius.”

Donald Chang sat next to his wife, placed a hand on her knee.

“Terrible about Adriana,” he said. “She was a really nice person. Not the most social person, but I don’t mean that in a weird way. I just never saw her desirous of any prolonged interaction with anyone but May.”

Lilly said, “Except for that time in Sherman Oaks.”

“What time?”

“When we were with my folks and she went out?”

“Oh,” said Donald. “That is true. But it never happened again, did it?”

She shook her head.

I said, “She enjoyed her time with May but wasn’t much for adult conversation.”

“I wouldn’t imply immaturity from that,” said Donald. “She was a serious person. But yes, she definitely preferred to be with May and the moment May was asleep, she’d retire to her room.”